


Take this sinking boat and point it home

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, LLF Comment Project, Post-Season/Series 03, Recovery, References to canon StaticQuake, vigilante Daisy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 16:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13239768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: Being a Vigilante is not easy, and much less is to do it alone. When May comes bearing medicine and cookies, Daisy can not resist the care and the company, and can't help it when the comfort turns into something more.





	Take this sinking boat and point it home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [26stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/gifts).



> Written for the AosPosiHoliday Exchange in Tumblr.
> 
> This includes Romantic MayDaisy, so take that into account before reading!

_**You have suffered enough** _

_**And warred with yourself** _

_**It's time that you won** _

* * *

For the first couple of days after she leaves, she can not think about anything else than Lincoln, not even about guilt. The pain is overwhelming, so strong that she feels it in her lungs and embedded in the ripples of her muscles; she can not use her powers anymore without being crushingly reminded of him.

Maybe that is why she uses her powers so much. Yeah, of course, helping people and bringing down the Watchdogs and doing her penance, those are all true, but they are the reasons Daisy can find for her actions rationally, when her mind and her body are both cold. In the middle of a dangerous move, who can say if she is doing it for the greater good or for her smaller bad?

She left S.H.I.E.L.D. as an organization because there are things she needs to do that S.H.I.E.L.D. could never allow in one of its agents. But she left the team because she knew they would never let her engage in the level of self-destruction she is just embracing.

Daisy is well aware of the damage she is provoking in both her body and her mind, but since the pleasure Hive made her feel was actually just the facade for evil, how can she believe that she is allowed to feel joy and pleasure again?

But, as it usually happens, pain also fades.

After a few months, she hasn’t forgotten Lincoln; probably she will never totally forget Lincoln. She has not forgotten her own sins, either. But little by little, memories start to become less brighter, less vivid, less like a fist constantly around her throat; she no longer remembers exactly the way Lincoln used to smile when she first met him, and that is a curse, but she doesn’t remember either the exact tone of Hive’s voice speaking inside her head, and that is a blessing. And in this cursed life, she gotta take what she can, doesn’t she?

And when those memories stop being so overwhelming that they keep her up all night, she starts thinking about other things, too, even against her own will. She tries to block the good memories, because she doesn’t think she deserves them, but her curiosity and her caring nature are even stronger than her self-loathing. She can not stop thinking about Fitz and Simmons trying to be surreptitious about holding hands while she was quarantined, and failing horribly at it. She can not stop thinking about Coulson, and whether he is or isn’t taking his medications on time. She can not stop thinking about Mack and his infinite patience and whether he has been brave enough to ask Elena out already. She can not stop thinking about Hunter and Bobbi, and if their life is being more or less complicated now that S.H.I.E.L.D. is in shambles once again.

She can not stop thinking about what May wanted to tell her while she was in the containment module.

She would never say it out loud, but all those thoughts, the vivid memory of the people who surround her- even if it’s not physically, even if she doesn’t deserve them- help her feel a little more alive, and a little less like a revenge goal with a bloodstream.

* * *

The first time May shows up at her temporary housing, Daisy panics so hard that she just slams the door shut on May’s face. What the hell is May doing here? How in hell did May manage to find her with her guard so low? She thought that she was better than this, than May had taught her to cover up her tracks a little better, but maybe May’s teaching design included a fatal flaw that makes her always able to track her students down.

(Maybe the Hive experience has left her a little too paranoid with how much of her is _actually her_ and how much is other people/things/ancient beings messing with her mind.)

She was aware that Mack and Coulson had been looking around for her, but May? She can hear May's voice inside her head almost as loud as her own inner voice, _I could find you because you didn’t think I was looking for you._

Of course, she is not naive enough to think that a closed door would deter Melinda May in the slightest. She is not foolish enough to not know that when May leaves, it is because she decides to leave, and not because she can't find her way around this situation.

Once May leaves, she could stay. After all, May has already found her once; Daisy has no doubt that she will be able to find her again, but her body is already too much into fight or flight mode, and since she can not fight anything else than her own demons, she flights.

Before leaving the house hurriedly in the middle of the night, she finds a bottle of bone-growing medicine in the mailbox, and she just pockets it and refuses to think about it in any capacity.

The next few times, Daisy only finds the bottle of medicine, without any signal of May being there, but she knows better than to not believe that Melinda Qiaolian May is perfectly capable of being seen when she wants and being invisible when she prefers. Those times she found the medicine in her mailbox, Daisy waited for the panic to rise up in her throat again, for the need to escape to grow in her stomach stronger than anything else, but nothing happens. She has a bottle of much needed medicine and a Supervising Officer who respects her distance, but still cares enough to provide what Daisy needs. Someone who puts first Daisy’s wishes than their own, and really, it’s is astounding how rare this kind of experience has been in her life before.

* * *

She wonders sometimes how long they could have kept going with that awkward dance if it hadn’t been for the breaking point. The breaking point being May’s cookies.

Again: she knows that _May knows_ that those cookies were a sure way to break her, but instead of anger or the sensation of being a trapped animal, that knowledge made her feel warm inside, the sensation of coming home. She refuses to think about it too much or in too much depth; she is trying to embrace the feelings that make her get up in the mornings and are not painted red.

She has figured out May’s schedule a little while ago; May is not exactly consistent, but she is always around the next day after Daisy overused her powers, and she never leaves her more than a day without pills. She is peering behind the curtains to watch May drop them and wondering if May feels guilty, if she would think that it was was her fault for enabling her if Daisy ever gets too badly hurt, and then she sees the jar with cookies.

(Again, who drops cookies in a jar in a mailbox? Nobody, unless they want what is inside the jar to be instantly recognized. Daisy is not daft, she knows she is being played; May has taught her well enough, but that doesn’t mean she can not _let_ herself be played.)

She still believes she doesn’t deserve the joy any member of the team can bring her, but she is naturally social, and loneliness and grief don’t mix well. In short, she is not out of the pit enough to seek help on her own, but she is neither deep down enough to refuse help when it comes knocking on her door.

Or dropping cookies, for that matter.  

“That’s an awful lot of cookies to eat all by myself.”

She can not guess based only on May’s face if she is surprised or not by Daisy opening the door. It doesn’t matter; whether it was all carefully planned or not, Daisy _opened_ the door and now they are here.

“I don’t trust that you have been feeding yourself enough.”

It could have been a harsh or an infantilizing comment, but the softness on May’s voice makes it a caring one instead.

“Do you wanna come in and share them with me?”

* * *

They have never been exactly friends, and too much water has run under the bridge for them to pretend to be acquaintances who can chit chat about the weather and light politics over a cup of tea.

They have seen each other bleed, and hearts always remember the blood.

Daisy lives on instant noodles and cheap coffee; she has been robbing banks, she could afford a diet a little more nutritious, but the money has never been for her; she keeps enough to pay off the places where she lives and the gas on her van, but as little as possible for herself. Another thing she wouldn’t say out loud but yes, missing Mack’s cooking and Jemma’s tea and Fitz’s pastries is part of her penance, too. She can not offer May much more than cheap chamomile tea bags, she doesn’t even have sugar to offer her, and she stresses herself over it, even though she knows that May only sweetens her tea when it’s so awful that it tastes like water, and even then only uses honey.

Daisy places on the table her scarce supplies, and for the very first time since she left, she feels ashamed of the way she is living. May should have a decent cup of tea, and she doesn’t like to not be able to provide it. Of course, neither of them voice any thoughts on that matter, and May just sips on her cup with the composure of a princess.

Daisy is the first one to break the silence, unable to take it any longer.

“Have you come to tell me that I should stop this and come back? Because thanks for the medicine and your dedication, but if that’s your goal you have been wasting your time.”

May places the cup on the ratty table, and Daisy recognizes the look on her face as _Let’s talk business, then._

“I don’t think I have ever told you to not do something just because.” She makes a pause, and Daisy feels the heat raising on her cheeks. “I might disagree with your choices, but you are an adult, and each of us copes in the ways we can. I’m not here to tell you to stop; I’m here to tell you that if you are going to keep on doing this, you have to be smart about it.”

Her hands start shaking, and Daisy doesn’t know what would be more embarrassing for May to witness: her being incapable of controlling her powers or her being incapable of controlling her emotions. She hides them behind her back, and deflects.  

“Aren't I keeping you from important things on base?”

Where a regular person would say _Yes. No. Yes, but-_ , May only says, matter-of-fact, "Yes.” A pause. “But I’m an adult too, and I get to choose what I wanna do, too.”

* * *

Daisy knew that she was lonely and not only alone, but she wasn’t aware of how much until May started visiting her regularly. It makes her feel a little guilty, because sometimes she is more eager for May’s visits than for a take-down on a Watchdog cell, and what does that say about her and her commitment to the mission and to making amends for her past mistakes.

Besides the regular medicine, May brings her inside information, strategic plans and sometimes even small gadgets. Daisy wonders if Fitz and Simmons are in the know or if May is stealing from under their noses; she is not sure she wants to know the answer, so she doesn’t ask. May never talks about the team; Daisy misses gossip, but she knows May enough to know that, with her, no news means good news. May also brings her expertise in taking care of injuries and recovering fast, but what Daisy appreciates the most is her companionship, even if it’s mostly silent.

A month after this particular set up has begun, Daisy takes the bone-growing medicine between her fingers, in a motion she would be unable to made if she hadn’t been taking it on the regular, and observes it with curious eyes.  

“How do you get it?”

May smiles at her wolfishly, and it’s a look she has seen on her face before, but it’s been so long that it makes Daisy shiver.

“Now that I'm allowed to break my trainees' bones, nobody pays attention to how much or how little I take.”

There is an uneasy feeling at the mouth of her stomach at the idea of May having other protegees, but it only makes sense; it took S.H.I.E.L.D. long enough to understand that the best investment possible is to put their very best assets in teaching positions.

“And don't your trainees need you?” It’s a selfish question, she knows. She is not expecting May to say that she chooses Daisy over everyone else, but there is a tiny part of her that would like to hear it anyway.

“No. That’s why I train them.”

Daisy knows that it wasn’t meant as a blow to her, but she feels herself spiralling under it anyway. She is not helpless, she has superpowers for God’s sake, and yet she is still considered the weaker link in the chain.

“You trained me too, and yet here you are.” She tries to not be too harsh, but her pain seeps into her words against her will.

May looks at her, her usual unreadable expression on her face.

“It’s not the same.”  

Daisy is dying to know what that means, and yet she doesn’t ask.

* * *

May never goes with her on missions, not even on the long recognition sessions Daisy does before engaging with a particular group. It makes sense; she can not afford to be seen with her, and Daisy understands. She miss fighting side by side with May: she misses her experience and her unrivaled skill. She misses the synergy they had going, but she understands, and even appreciates having these two almost separate worlds. They talk about things, of course, but they also cook together and share restful afternoons and just dance around each other in silence, each doing their own thing but together. With some effort, Daisy can almost pretend that May has nothing to do with her vigilante life, even though her vigilante life would be disastrous without May. Since she doesn’t have a place to come back home anymore, she appreciates that now May has taken that place.

She wouldn’t admit to it, but now she is more careful than she used to be; maybe she won’t take care of herself _for_ herself, but at least she will do it to not give May the displeasure of seeing her at her lowest.

Until, of course, her unlucky trail catches up to her and she finds herself wishing desperately that May were at her side. Or Mack. She misses her partner deeply, but Mack and Coulson have both backed off after May found her; Daisy thinks that probably May had something to do with that, because their line of work has taught her that coincidences don’t exist but, again, May hasn’t told her, and Daisy hasn’t asked. But right now, with a concussion so strong that makes her see stars and a bleeding injury at her side that she is not really sure how has been caused, scared and in the verge of passing out, she wishes for nothing else but May’s strong hands and her wise mind by her side.

She wakes up in a frenzy, down to her underwear and in an unknown location. That combination of things is the cloth that makes up her nightmares, but then May rushes to her side and Daisy lets her exhausted body drop onto the couch again, and May’s voice lulls herself back to sleep.

The next time she wakes up is because of the pain, but she is now on a bed, the wound by her side has been bandaged and her abdomen wiped clean. There is a cup of tea still warm on the nightstand, a bottle of painkillers, two of May’s very special cookies, and May herself sitting on a chair by her bedside, her legs folded into an outlandish yoga position. Daisy’s first incoherent thought is that she would like to be as flexible as May, not even at May’s age, but right now.

Instead, the first thing that comes out of her mouth is, “How on earth did you know that I needed an extraction?”

May opens her eyes slowly, and doesn’t conceal her worry.

“Let’s just be glad that I did.”

* * *

The next few days feel like a dream. The pain meds keep her in a constant dream state, and when she is more clear headed, Daisy wonders if this might not _actually_ be a dream. May stays by her side constantly, and shields Daisy from the rest of the world and from any news that might upset her, and Daisy tries to put up a fight about it- she has a duty and she couldn’t live with herself if more Inhumans were killed just because she was taking an off week-, but there is not actual heat behind it, and May slams it down quickly. She has never been so taken care of ever since she was under Simmons’s care, and even then the tenderness was of a very different quality.

They are staying at May’s house; she never thought of May as a person to put down roots, but apparently this is a safe house Andrew arranged for her without S.H.I.E.L.D. knowledge, because he wanted her to have a safe place to come back to, even if it wasn’t with him. Daisy tries to reconcile the story with the memories she has of Andrew right after she went through Terrigenesis, letting them unblemished from the knowledge of Lash’s destiny, but she can’t. There are a lot of confusing feelings in the mix, and not thinking about Lash’s kills makes her remember how he saved her life, and that makes her think of Hive, and she refuses to go down that path.

“That means you are getting better,” is May’s reply when Daisy explains her way of thinking.

“What?”

“If you are strong enough to not let yourself drown in those memories, it means that you are getting better.”

Daisy blinks at her owlishly. She has not thought about it that way until now; she has envisioned herself as fighting with an all-powerful monster at all times, with no actual chances of ever defeating it. The notion that she might be winning leaves her spinning.

* * *

She tries to leave once she gets better, start again her rotation of rented houses, but May claims that is nonsense, that this house is empty and equipped with state of the art security, and _you need to allow yourself to have nice things, Daisy, you can not keep on living fueled only by pain._

“If what bothers you is my presence here, I promise I won’t come around anymore.” It’s not a self-pitying statement, one that seeks for reassurance. May is being blunt and honest with her, the way she usually is about everything, but Daisy blinks at her, confused, because the tone of the sentence suits her, but not the substance.

“I would have expected you to tell me to suck it up and take things as they are.”

It’s the very first time, Daisy thinks, that she sees actual hesitation on May’s face. It last for only a second before May’s expression softens and then hardens in a quick succession.

“I should have.” She makes a pause. Daisy has a pretty formed idea of what she is thinking, but she doesn’t dare have faith in actually hearing it from May’s lips. Until she does. “But I rather you stay safe than with me.”

Daisy can relate to that feeling, and tears well up on her eyes of their own accord.

“That’s exactly why I left.”

May stays very very still, and the slight frown on her brow is a classic telltale of confusion.

“You left because you couldn’t do the good you wanted to do from within S.H.I.E.L.D. And because you were grieving and weren’t acting consistently.” It’s an affirmation, not a question, and Daisy shakes her head the entire time she is stating it.

“True. But mostly, I thought of myself as something cursed and evil that could only draw tragedies.” She doesn’t even register she is using the past tense until her sentence is over, and that makes something settle inside her stomach. “And I didn’t want any of you to get caught in the orbit of my misfortune. So I left. Because I wanted you all to be alive and happy more than I needed to have you in my life.”

“You don’t get to decide who cares about you, Daisy.” May’s tone is harsh, and Daisy almost recoils at hearing it. But she has become versed enough in May’s body-language during the last three years and particularly during the last few months, to understand that the fierceness comes from passionate caring and not from resentment.  “We are teammates, and we have the right to choose whether or not you are worth the risk.”

“Thank you.” May turns her head around so quickly that it must have given her whiplash, and Daisy almost feels like smiling at being able to surprise her. “Thank you for using the present tense.”

* * *

Somewhere along the way, she has found something ressembling a balance; she leads a life taking Watchdogs bases by storm, helping inhumans who have recently gone through Terrigenesis accept themselves, all the while caring for Robin’s well-being, and she feels at peace while doing it.     

It’s a striking difference with her first weeks doing the job, when everything was born out of pain and anger, and she can not stop thinking that the biggest and the most important difference, besides time, is May.

It doesn’t have to mean anything, right?

(It also doesn’t have to _not_ mean anything, though.)

She spends long nights awake, thinking if she would feel any different if the person by her side were Mack. Or Simmons. Or Lincoln.

The conclusions she gets from all that thinking only gives her more insomnia.  

* * *

Daisy Johnson has gone through a lot of changes in her life; heck, some of them even were accompanied with a name change, too. But something that has never changed- and it can be her greatest strength as much as her worse weakness- is her inability to play deaf to the tune of her own heart.

Once she connects all the dots inside her mind, she waits for the feeling of wrongness to arrive. She waits for the anxiety and the panic to send her down one more time. But nothing of that sort ever arrives. Instead, she feels grounded; it’s like she raised her head to see the stars and for the first time in her life _, everything made sense._

(It’s not the same that when she fell in love with Lincoln, that was fast and hard and built upon circumstances. It is, in fact, a little more similar to when she started developing feelings for Ward, that were rooted in admiration and respect. Maybe she should be a little freaked out by that, but she is not, because, one, after all Ward was trying to emulate someone like May; and, two, May has taught her better than to make the same mistake twice.)   

All in all, the thing is that the feeling is there and is strong and is beautiful, so how could she ignore it?

She is not waiting behind the door to jump May the next time she pays Daisy a visit.

She doesn’t play coy and seductive the way she has played with targets more than once- both before and after her spy life.

She doesn’t seek ludicrous excuses to touch her.

But she _knows._

She _knows_ and her heart misses a beat every time she looks at May and there is a soft voice resonating in her ribcage with a _Yeah, I could be happy to come home to this every day of my life._

She _knows_ and it makes her feel bold and at the same time careful; she knows that if it were the case, May would let her down kindly, with no hard feelings; but this still could shake up the very structure that Daisy used to build her life upon during the last three years, and that’s not something that one can take lightly.

But she _knows,_ and the only problem is the distance between knowing and doing.

* * *

When it happens, it isn’t something planned.

Daisy has stressed herself a little thinking of possibilities, a voice in the back of her mind that sounds suspiciously like Simmons listing scenarios and putting them in excruciatingly detailed categories: the best ones, the good ones, the bad ones and the worse ones. And yet, something in her has put on a fight against that. Everything between her and May has come from natural progression, from fate throwing a chance onto their laps, from them taking the hand they had been dealt by destiny and making it work. She can vividly imagine Simmons scrunching up her nose and saying that there is not such thing as fate. But Daisy has tried to swim upstream against Space-Time, and she begs to differ.

Besides, she is better at ditching the plan and improvising than she is at following it.

And no plan would have taken into consideration the glasses.

They are going over a map of the latest Watchdogs’ meetings, trying to triangulate the position of their faceless leader, and Daisy observes amusedly how May squints her eyes for the umptemth time, trying to get a good read on Daisy’s scrambled notes. Finally she sighs, and takes out of her pocket a pair of reading glasses, perching them over her nose. And for some reason, that pair of frameless glasses opens all the gates that are struggling enough to keep her feelings contained.

She never noticed before having a thing for people in glasses, but maybe it’s not for the glasses themselves. Maybe it’s because of the quiet domesticity of the gesture, it’s because of the way May obviously was trying to pretend she doesn’t need them, like the vast majority of people her age does.   

Probably, it’s because is _May_ behind the glasses, and something inside Daisy snaps.

She slides down the couch and onto her knees, right in front of May, and with her eyes already closed, takes May’s cheeks between her palms and kisses her.

May remains still for one second, and then another one, and both of them are beats of Daisy’s heart inside her throat instead of her chest. Then, May places both her hands over Daisy’s and gently pushes her apart.

“Daisy.” And her voice is so soft and so calm that Daisy can’t even feel ashamed. “I don’t want you to mix up companionship and comfort with this.”

Classic May, trying to take care of her without considering for a second her own feelings.

“I don’t hear a no in there,” is her bold reply, and May bites her lower lip, the sight making Daisy’s stomach do a somersault. If that is not downright attraction, she doesn’t know what is.

“I-, I-, I don’t-.”

It’s exhilarating, this sensation of being in control while _Melinda May herself_ stutters under her palms, freaking out while Daisy feels certain and grounded.

“Hey, May, we have always been brutally honest with each other. It’s one of the things I like the most about you. So, honor that and tell me if you want this, too. If the answer is no, that’s fine. But it has to be for you, and not for me.”    

There’s a vulnerability in May’s eyes that takes Daisy back to ten months ago, when she was in the containment module and May’s heartfelt speech got interrupted; they might have done a more intrincated journey to get back to that point, but they are here, and this moment is theirs, and Daisy won’t let anything get between them again.

May is scanning her face carefully, and Daisy wonders what May sees in her. Fingers crossed, sometime in the near future she will find a chance to ask. Right now, May just strokes her fingers carefully over Daisy’s, and in truly May-fashion, her acceptance is fully non-verbal when she leans over and kisses Daisy again.   

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Prompts
>   * Image reactions/li>
>   * Reader-reader interaction
>   * This author replies to comments.
> 



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